


i want to love (but i don't know how)

by emrysthewarlock



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Gen, Hurt Zuko (Avatar), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Ozai (Avatar) Being a Terrible Parent, Zuko (Avatar)-centric, and im proud of him, zuko is hurting and scared but he learns and grows
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:35:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,077
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23121109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emrysthewarlock/pseuds/emrysthewarlock
Summary: Zuko wonders if he will ever get better at this, at interactions. (Part of him is hopeful. The rest hasn’t known what hope is since his mother left.)Or, Zuko learns four types of love that he's been pushing away for too long.
Relationships: Iroh & Zuko (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar), The Gaang & Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 145
Kudos: 3341





	i want to love (but i don't know how)

**Author's Note:**

> (title from Neptune by Sleeping at Last)

i.

_ Philia: love between friends  _

Zuko expected the question to come earlier than this. 

They’re sitting on the beach, the warm sun a nice sensation on Zuko’s face. His knees are drawn to his chest, his tunic still on, because he is  _ stressed.  _ He knows they can’t afford to waste time for beach days, not when taunting words are still flying through his head. Not when he knows what’s waiting for them, knows the wrath of Azula and his father and knows that they need to be better, they all need to be better, to beat them. 

Not good enough, not good enough, not good enough. 

But he doesn’t say anything, lets Aang and Katara splash in the waves while Sokka and Suki build sandcastles and Toph destroys them. Zuko’s learned by now that if the team doesn’t want to do something, they won’t do it, and pushing them is useless. Besides, he trusts them (somehow, inexplicably, he  _ does _ ) and he just has to hope everything will turn out okay. 

Zuko starts a fire pit on the beach as Aang and Katara drag themselves out of the water and slowly the group starts to gather around it, blankets and towels and fire flakes being passed around. He thinks, briefly, of another instance when he was gathered around a fire pit and how much quieter, how much  _ nicer, _ this is. Even if he feels like an outsider still. He feels he’s watching the rest through some sort of screen, something he can’t pass. 

“Now that’s what I call a well deserved break,” Sokka claims, voice disrupting Zuko’s train of thought. “Next time, you should get in the water too, Jerkbender.”

“There won’t be a next time if we don’t defeat the Firelord.” Zuko winces as the words leave his mouth, a palpable silence growing as the flames dim with his peak in anxiety. There he is, filling the role expected for him again. The bad news bearer, the downer, the outcast.  _ Zuko.  _ “Sorry,” he mutters, dragging a finger through the sand, tracing out characters. His name, over and over again. He wonders if he will ever get better at this, at interactions. (Part of him is hopeful. The rest hasn’t known what hope is since his mother left.)

“No worries!” Aang chirps, so carefree because he’s just a  _ kid  _ who’s been thrust into a war too big for him. They’re all just kids. Zuko looks around the circle. He’s the oldest, and he’s just gracing the edge of adulthood. They’re a bunch of kids playing soldiers because someone has to and somehow they’re the most capable. “I’m starving. Pass the fire flakes, Sifu Hotman!”

Zuko smiles despite himself, his muscles straining. It’s not something he’s gotten to do often. He picks up the bag of red snacks and tosses them across the fire to where Aang is bundled up in blankets between Suki and Katara. “You don’t have to call me that.”

“I like it!” Aang speaks through a mouthful of food and Katara chides him while Suki laughs and the whole thing is so familial that Zuko casts his gaze to the ground. 

“Well I for one like Sparky much better,” Toph declares, firmly punching Zuko on the arm. He grunts at the impact, but doesn’t say anything because he knows now that Toph doesn’t waste her punches on just anyone. 

He does, however, make a face at the nickname. “Ugh, that’s what Azula used to call me when we were younger. After she discovered she could lightning bend and I couldn’t, she would always slip that into conversation. It drove me crazy, but my father didn’t really stop her. He encouraged it, really. I think he thought that picking on me would make me a better firebender.” He laughs, a little bitter. “That was just a dad thing, I think.”

He looks up when he realizes no one else is laughing, no one jumping in with shared experiences. They are all just… looking at him, mirror expressions of concern. Concern that he doesn’t deserve, that makes his skin prickle. “Maybe not,” he mutters. “But that was probably the most harmless thing he did, so it’s not a big deal.” A joke to try and ease the tension that lay thick in the air. 

It was the wrong thing to say. Aang has frozen, the bag of fire flakes still clutched half-heartedly in his hands. Katara sits forward, blue eyes reflecting the fire. “Zuko…” the worry in her voice was too much, too much, so Zuko shook his head. 

“It’s not a big deal, really,” he says. “Let’s just talk about something else.” 

“I think it is a big deal.” Aang always speaks quietly when he’s serious, as if to emphasize that quiet and peace can win out too. He’s too mature and too wise for some kid. “I think you’re just avoiding it.”

The words take Zuko back, as he stares at Aang whose grey eyes are staring right back. “I am  _ not _ ,” he grits out, Aang’s words too close and too much like another confrontation on this very beach, words exchanged between a different family from a different time. 

“Actually, I think Aang’s onto something,” Toph pipes up from his side. “Don’t hate me for this, but you  _ do  _ have a tendency to just avoid our questions about your family.”

“Maybe I don’t like it when people pry,” Zuko snaps, trying to ignore the rushing in his ears, the feeling that he’s cornered and he can’t escape, can’t run. There’s no walls to hide behind and nowhere to go except for right here. He balls his hands into fists as they shake, the fire climbing higher with his anxiety. He doesn’t want to tell them, doesn’t want to be the disappointment who ran away from his father and sister in fear, the coward who has never  _ ever  _ been able to stand up for himself. 

He can’t be that person anymore. 

“Zuko, please,” Sokka says, and there’s something in his voice that briefly distracts Zuko from his spiking heart rate. He’s so serious, and his eyes are filled with concern. “You can talk to us.”

“You  _ should  _ talk to us,” Katara insists, and Zuko wants to run because he feels like he’s being cornered and Katara has never been one to back down from something and now Suki is saying something, probably some other insistence that he should share his life story and he’s sprung to his feet before he even knows it. 

“Stop!” he yells, and the fire spikes again before he clamps his will on it and brings it back down. He won’t be hurting his friends, not even now. “Please, stop,” his voice breaks and his legs are shaking and he doesn’t realize he’s falling forwards until Sokka’s there to catch him and ease him back onto the sand. 

They’re quiet as Zuko takes in shuddering breaths and Sokka’s arm tightens around Zuko’s shoulders. He lets himself sink into the grasp because, maybe,  _ maybe _ , Aang is right. Maybe he has been running away from himself all this time, even amidst this whole changing sides. He shouldn’t do it, shouldn’t run anymore, even if it means confessing to his team that he’s a coward. 

“I didn’t want to tell you guys anything,” he starts. Falters. Looks up at Aang for reassurance because Aang has always been kind and good and everything Zuko’s not. Aang is looking back, and his eyes are just filled with love. Pride. Happiness. Because of Zuko. 

He looks away. 

“I think I was running away,” Zuko says, digging his nails into his arm. “Because I think. I think you guys are my friends. Maybe my first actually real friends in my whole life, and I don’t want you guys to think I’m weak. I’m a coward. Especially after everything I’ve already done to you.”

Katara is the one who speaks up first. “Zuko, I know,” she falters, before standing up to kneel by Zuko’s other side, hand gently pressed on his arm. “I know I was harsh. But I think, no I  _ know _ , there’s not a single person here who doubts your place on our team now. There’s not a single person here who doesn’t count you as our friend, and nothing you have to say about your home is going to change that.”

Zuko allows him one second to look at her, a silent thank you passing between them because only they can know the hatred that was there, and how much her words mean now. Then he looks back into the fire, and starts a story about a boy whose father didn’t want him, sister tormented him, and mother left him. 

“After she left, things just got worse,” he says, digging his thumb across the sand. “My father always said Azula was born lucky, and I was lucky to be born. After she left, I think he was trying to reinforce the fact that I was lucky to still be alive at all.”

He doesn’t look at them before he barrels on, headfirst into the worst of it. “Then, one day, he told me I was allowed to come to some War Council meeting. I remember, I was so happy, even Azula seemed surprised. Finally, my dad was proud of me.” He laughs bitterly. “It was some kind of test, I think. When we were there, he told me I should be seen but not heard. That I was there to watch, not interfere. And I was doing fine but, this one War General was talking about a plan to push all these innocent people to the front lines. It was, it was a suicide mission!” He draws his knees up to his chest, exhaling, trying to calm his nerves, and the fire flickers with his breath. “So, I spoke up. I said that it wasn’t fair, not when there were other ways the troops could be set up. It was probably the first time in my life I had ever stood up for myself, but a lot of good it did me.”

He stops, preparing for the worst of it. He doesn’t know how to say it, how to tell them that he was a disgrace, a banished prince. Zuko opens his mouth to speak, but his voice cracks on the first syllable and he feels a pressure behind his eyes as tears threaten to fall. They can’t fall, not now. Not now.

But all he can see is the fire and all he can feel is the heat and pain and burning shame that brings him right back to that moment. He feels paralyzed. He feels trapped. He wants to go home.

And then Zuko feels Sokka’s arms tightening around him, he feels Katara’s grasp on his arm, still soothing and gentle. He knows Aang and Toph and Suki are nearby, and all of a sudden he doesn’t feel quite so overwhelmingly alone.

_ This is home _ , he realizes.  _ This is my home.  _

His breathing evens and he doesn’t feel quite so scared anymore.

“My father said I disrespected him by speaking up. He said I was a disgrace, to him and to the Fire Nation. To repent, he challenged me to an Agni Kai.”

“Agni Kai?” Suki asks.

“It’s a duel for honor,” Aang says before Zuko can. “It’s been around since even before I visited. If one’s honor is challenged, you duel the offender, and whoever burns the other person first wins.” Aang meets Zuko’s eyes across the fire, and he knows he is the first person to make the connection. “Zuko, how old were you?” He sounds breathless.

“I was thirteen,” he responds, voice thick as he realizes that maybe he is going to cry after all. He shouldn’t. He can’t afford to come across weaker than he already is. “And I didn’t fight back. I know, I know he did some messed up things, but he was still my father. I couldn’t fight back. Not with all the fire nation elite watching. So he gave me this.” Zuko points to the scar marring his features. “And banished me, told me I could only ever come back if I captured the Avatar.

“So I spent all that time searching for you, Aang. I was confined to a boat with my Uncle and a few Fire Nation rejects for sailors, and I travelled the world looking for you because I thought my father had taken away my  _ honor _ , and I wanted to get it back. I wanted to prove that I was good enough, good enough for him, good enough for the Fire Nation, good enough to have a sense of honor to begin with.” His voice cracks again and before Zuko can stop himself there are tears flowing down his face. “I’m sorry,” he gasped. “I know this is not an excuse, I know I was terrible and I know I should have stood up to my father so many times and I  _ didn’t _ , I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” and he would keep repeating himself but there’s a sudden weight across his middle and he breaks off as he realizes Aang has firmly attached himself around Zuko.

“Please don’t apologize,” the Avatar says into Zuko’s shirt and it takes him a moment that Aang is crying  _ too _ and so is Katara and Sokka just looks angry, and soon Toph and Suki have wrapped themselves around him too as he lets out the last of his sobs, shoulders shaking and chest heaving. “Just, don’t apologize.”

Zuko knows this isn’t the end of this conversation, but he lets himself be held. He lets himself rest his head against Sokka’s chest, lets each person hold onto him like he might disappear if they let go. He hasn’t been held like this in so long, not like he mattered. So he lets himself be held and loved and something in him warms and reminds him, faintly,  _ this is what friendship feels like _ .

ii.

_ Storge: familial love _

Zuko’s eyes are fixed on the papers in front of him, parchment spread over his entire desk. The lamp to his right burns low, and he absentmindedly points his finger to ignite the flame again. The papers are all financial records, telling him of the devastating losses the Fire Nation has had to succumb to during the period of Ozai’s reign. Unfair tax policies drove the Royal Family to opulence while local businesses closed down and families were evicted from their homes.

So much damage, all caused by his father. All up to Zuko to fix. 

He frowns, picking up a quill to draft a new set of economic regulations. Lower taxes, for sure. Maybe some of the nobility could pay reparations? He should go into town, canvas the people and personally apologize, see if they can tell him what they want to be fixed. 

Zuko’s so engrossed in his work, he doesn’t realize someone has entered his office until a gravelly voice breaks him from his concentration. “Fire Lord Zuko,” his Uncle says, a smile on his face. “I think it’s time you went to bed.”

“I will, Uncle.” Zuko turns back to his paper. What was he thinking? Right, going into town. He’ll see if he can get a team to go with him in the next week… and maybe Aang could fly up too. People would likely see it more as an action of peace if the Avatar was there too. “I just need to finish these plans.”

“You cannot fix the world in one night, Zuko.” His Uncle gently urges. “Even Fire Lords need sleep.”

“I know, I know.” Zuko furrows his brow, scratching his quill to finish his sentence. “There’s so much damage, so much that needs to be undone. I need to start now.”

“Your coronation was two days ago, no one will expect you to overturn one hundred years of war in a fortnight.” Uncle gently pries the quill out of Zuko’s hand, forcing him to stop writing. “You should sleep.”

“But that’s just it!” Zuko slams his hands against the table. “People are expecting me to do something, fast! These people have been suffering for  _ one hundred years _ , Uncle. Why should they have to do so for any day more? Why should they have to suffer for someone else’s wrongs?”

The unsaid words hang between them, and Zuko knows his Uncle picks up on them.

_ Why should they have to suffer because of my family? _

His Uncle comes to stand beside Zuko, gathering his papers neatly into stacks. “The wrongdoings of your father are not your burden to carry, Fire Lord Zuko. You, with the Avatar, have ushered in a new era of peace to this land and you should be  _ proud _ . You should be able to look at yourself and realize that you are not here to carry our family’s wrongs, but to set them right. This takes time, and pushing yourself like this on your first night will do you no good. Go to sleep. Things will be easier in the morning.”

Zuko considers his Uncle’s word as he puts his papers in stacks on the corners of his desk. “Maybe you’re right,” he mumbles, sleep suddenly overriding his brain. “I can’t help but feel guilty, though. What if I had switched sides earlier? What if I stood up to father earlier? What if I listened to you? Maybe I could have done so much more by now.”

His Uncle is quiet. “I do not think that is possible,” he says, finally, quietly. “You had to find this path for yourself, Zuko. You were so young, and no one expected you to find your road yet.” He draws Zuko up from his chair, placing a wrinkled hand on Zuko’s shoulder. Zuko looks down at his Uncle, finding comfort in the familiar face. “You did find your way, Zuko. You listened to the voice inside of you, and you found your way. Now look at all you have done!”

His Uncle’s gaze softens. “I’m so proud of you, Nephew. So,  _ so _ , proud.” 

Zuko lets himself be pulled into a hug, hugging his Uncle tightly. “Thank you,” he whispers into Iroh’s ear. “Not just for this,” he continues as he draws back from the hug. “But for everything. For not giving up on me, for showing me kindness over and over again, and for helping me find my way.”

“No, Zuko.” Iroh’s eyes are burning with some kind of pride. “You found your way all on your own.”

Zuko gathers his Uncle into his arms again, hoping the embrace can cover all the words he’s never been able to say. Will be able to make up for the years of rebuffs, confusion, hatred, betrayal that Zuko projected onto his Uncle, who had always been, and will always be, there for him. “Although, the rest I  _ will  _ take credit for,” Iroh says with a chuckle, and Zuko laughs with him. 

“Now! Let’s get you to sleep, young Zuko,” his Uncle declares, pulling Zuko out of his office. “In the morning, I need you to test these new tea flavors I have come up with. I think they will really make the Jasmine Dragon’s business boom!”

Zuko groans as he follows his Uncle out of the room. He looks at him as he continues to talk about tea, smiling happily, and finds a similar smile growing on his face.

_ Family _ , he thinks.  _ This is my family.  _

iii.

_ Eros: romantic love _

“I don’t understand why you won’t just  _ let me in _ !” Sokka was saying, all wild hands and grand gestures as his words get angrier. 

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” Zuko responds, hand grasped against the bed frame. His knuckles are white, and the touch is likely the only thing stopping his hands from shaking. 

“Zuko, we have been dating for  _ three  _ months! Why won’t you just let me share a room with you?” Sokka’s voice is getting wilder, and Zuko wants to shrink away, to duck away. But it’s better this way because he messes up everything anyways and it was only a matter of time before Sokka realized he could do so much better. 

Zuko exhales, and then turns away from Sokka so he can’t see the way he draws his hands into his chest to stop their tremors. “Maybe it’s better if you just stopped prying for once.” 

Silence. Then an offended exhale. “Fine.” Sokka sounds upset. “Fine! I should have known you could never really care about me.” And god, if those words don’t pierce Zuko right through the heart. But he waits, waits until the door slams shut as Sokka exits before he collapses. His knees hit the wooden floor and his vision is swarming but he tries to tell himself this was the right decision.

He was going to realize, soon enough, that Zuko wasn’t anything special. He was going to realize that Zuko couldn’t go through a full night of sleep without being shaken awake by night terrors, he was going to realize that Zuko didn’t know how to do  _ this _ , how to love another person. He was going to realize that although Zuko had learned so much from the Avatar and his team, he was still so messed up in so many ways. 

He was going to realize Zuko wasn’t, would never be,  _ enough _ . 

Zuko makes himself stand up and blow out the candle by his bedside. It’s better this way. This way Sokka can move on and find someone who can actually love him the way he deserves to be loved. 

He slides under his cover, his bed is still  _ too big _ , too overwhelming, and forces himself to calm his breathing down. “It’s better this way,” he murmurs to himself, over and over again, until he falls asleep while trying to forget the memory of a campfire, and warm arms around him and a voice murmuring that he loves him. 

🝊🝊🝊

“Sokka!” Zuko screams, the word tearing through his throat, as he jolts upright. His heart is thumping against his chest as he tries to remember where he is. He’s not fighting Azula. Sokka isn’t hurt. He’s in his bedroom, moonlight filtering through the curtains, and his guards doing a perfunctory look inside to make sure he’s okay. 

(The first three nights, the guards would bolt in whenever Zuko woke up screaming and tear the room apart to make sure he was okay. Now, they’re used to the nightmares. 

Zuko  _ isn’t. _ )

The guards exit once they see Zuko isn’t in immediate danger, and he draws his knees to his chest as tears build up behind his eyes. He had… he had almost lost Sokka. He had watched as Azula, who normally tormented him, shot a bolt of lighting at Sokka’s chest, and Zuko was too slow, too clumsy, to save him. 

_ Not good enough. Not good enough.  _

He draws in a shuddering breath as he brings his nails to his mouth. A bad habit, maybe. But he can’t help it. He almost lost Sokka, and the only thing he can think of was that the last words he said to Sokka were to go away. 

He  _ wants  _ Sokka. He wants to make sure he’s still breathing, still flesh and blood. Was that selfish? Zuko threads his fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his forehead. He wants Sokka to hold him and tell him dumb jokes and to stay up late with him. 

It  _ is  _ selfish.

A voice that sounds suspiciously like Uncle sounds throughout Zuko’s head.  _ You’re allowed to be selfish sometimes, Zuko. Everyone deserves happiness.  _

Does he? He doesn’t know. 

But he wants Sokka and he’s shaking and his hands feel weak and before he even makes up his mind, he’s swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and opening his chamber door. 

“I’m just going for a walk,” he tells his guards. 

“Do you want someone to accompany you?” One them, a Kyoshi Warrior (and Zuko wishes he knew her name, wishes he was good enough) asks, nothing but concern in her voice. 

“I’m okay,” he says. “Just need to clear my head.”

She nods, and Zuko turns, walking down the hallway. His skin is prickling and he’s thinking this is a bad idea. Sokka doesn’t want him anymore. He  _ doesn’t _ . Zuko stops in front of the door, decorated with the blue water tribe insignia, the official quarters for the ambassadors. 

Sokka doesn’t want him.

So what is he doing here?

He rests his hand against the cool metal. What is he even going to say? He’s sorry? 

Zuko laughs shallowly, pressing his forehead against the surface, trying to cool his spiking temperature. That phrase is too inadequate. He’s too inadequate, too small for all of this. He’s getting better, he knows. He doesn’t feel guilty anymore when he spends time with Aang or Katara or Toph. He knows they’re his friends. He knows not to push them away.

He knows, now, what it means to have friends.

But he doesn’t know how to do  _ this _ . How to let someone see so much into your life, to put all your flaws on display for them, and let them see them for what they are. He doesn’t know how to make himself be enough for Sokka, doesn’t know how to not feel guilty that he’s holding him  _ back _ . 

Zuko exhales, pushing himself back from the door.  _ This was a ridiculous idea _ , he chides himself, as he steps back towards the hallway. It’s better this way, anyways. 

Just as he turns around, resigning himself to letting Sokka go, the Water Tribe door slides open and someone in a deep blue robe steps out. 

“Zuko?” Sokka asks, confused, because of course it’s Sokka and Zuko is frozen and everything in him is telling him to stand and fight, but he doesn’t know what he’s fighting.

He’s so tired.

“What are you doing here?” Sokka continues talking, and his voice is guarded and Zuko can’t see his face because he’s still turned away. He turns to face Sokka, opening his mouth to offer some sort of explanation but nothing comes out.

“I was going to the bathroom,” he finally offers, weakly, because he cannot tell Sokka he came here to see him. He’s letting him go. He’s not going to be selfish this time. 

The look Sokka fixes Zuko with tells him he’s not impressed with the half-assed justification. “You have a bathroom in your chambers.”

“It was broken?” Zuko’s heart is thudding against his chest. “Anyways, sorry to bother you. I’m just,” he gestures behind him vaguely, and he turns around and starts to speed walk back to his quarters. 

“Zuko!” Sokka whisper shouts, because there are rooms around them, and Zuko stops because he owes Sokka this, at least. “Wait!”

He pauses, and his hands are still shaking, so he folds his arms to hide them. 

Sokka catches up, coming to stand in front of Zuko. “I was just going to see you, actually.”

Zuko’s heart thuds again.

“Oh?” He tries to make his voice steady, tries to get rid of the building pressure behind his eyes. This is it. Sokka’s ending it.  _ Why does it hurt so much? _

“Yeah,” Sokka breaths, holding up a hand with a bit of parchment grasped in it. “I was going to leave this under your door.” 

A letter. Zuko looks at the letter, and something is roaring in his ears and he feels too hot and his clothes are too tight. “Okay,” he says.  _ He’s leaving me he’s leaving me.  _ “The letter isn’t necessary. I- I understand.”  _ This is what I wanted. He’s leaving me. _

_ It has to be this way. _

“What?”

“I, I understand if you are going back to the Southern Water Tribe now.” Zuko’s words sound far away to his own ears. “I’m,” his voice trails off as his breath catches and Zuko doesn’t even realize he’s still shaking until Sokka has grasped his hand.

_ He’s leaving me.  _

_ This is what I want. _

“Zuko,” Sokka says, but Zuko keeps going because he wants to rip off the bandage and go back to his room and pretend this never happened.

“I appreciate the time you put forth. I’m sorry I wasn’t able to reciprocate.” His words are mechanical, short. “I wish you the best-”

“Zuko, shut up!” Sokka yells, jarring Zuko from his panic enough to see Sokka’s angry face. “I’m  _ not  _ breaking up with you!”

The words ring uselessly in Zuko’s brain. “What?”

“No, you obtuse turtleduck, I’m  _ not _ .”

_ He’s not leaving me. He’s not. _

_ He should. _

“Why?” Zuko asks, and his throat is thick with fear and tears, and he knows he’s about to cry because Sokka is right in front of him, alive, and he wants to be with him. And Zuko wants to fall into him and let everything go, but he can’t because he’s not good enough for him, he’s no good at his. 

“Zuko…” Sokka trails off, pressing a hand against Zuko’s face, and Zuko’s weak so he leans into the touch even as words tumble out of him.

“Why  _ aren’t  _ you leaving me?” his voice is desperate. “I’m not good for you, Sokka. I’m not good enough for you. I can’t, I  _ can’t  _ do this, and you don’t want me. You  _ don’t _ .”

Sokka’s frowning and Zuko hates himself for putting that expression on his face.

“Let’s go in my room,” Sokka suggests, hand gently guiding Zuko by the elbow. “I think we need to talk.”

The Water Tribe ambassador leads Zuko through the open metal door, closing it softly behind them. The room is similar to Zuko, with a blue bedspread instead of red and a Water Tribe banner hung on the wall. There are pictures decorating Sokka’s walls, clothes shoved into a closet, trinkets from all his travels. 

Zuko feels like an intruder. 

“Sit.” Sokka points at the bed.

“I’m not a polar bear dog,” Zuko mutters. He doesn’t sit. His body is still gearing up for something. Fight or flight. He isn’t sure which one would be appropriate yet. 

“I know.” Sokka sits down. “Please, Zuko.” His voice is so strained and Zuko bends before he breaks and seats himself, just on the edge of the bed, and studies his hands.

They’re firebender hands. Calloused and slender and Zuko curls his fingers in until his nails dig into his palm to distract himself from what a mess he’s made.

He seems to do that, a lot. Make messes. 

“Zuko.” Sokka’s staring at him. Zuko knows without looking. He can feel the intensity of his gaze, and knows if he looks back he’s going to lose his mind because he never,  _ ever _ , wants to lose Sokka but he doesn’t want to hurt him either. “You’re kind of freaking me out, dude.”

“Sorry.”

“No, that’s not-” Sokka lets out a breath, frustrated, and Zuko wants to curl up into a ball. He’s never been good at confrontation, probably never will be. “That’s not what I meant. Spirits.”

Zuko stares wordlessly at the blue woven rug on the floor. 

“Sokka,” he starts. He stops. Takes a breath. “I’m not good at this.”

Sokka opens his mouth to speak, but Zuko shakes his head: he needs to speak, first, so that Sokka knows everything. “I don’t know how to love another person like that. But Sokka, I  _ want  _ to. With you. But that scares me.  _ Really _ scares me, because there are parts of me that no one has seen or heard before and you’re going to. I’m just scared… I’m scared after you see them you won’t want me anymore. Or you’ll feel guilty and want to stay with me even though you can find someone who's a lot better for you and a lot more put together and doesn’t push you away.” The words are tumbling out, faster and faster. “I don’t want to lose you, Sokka. I know that’s selfish and I don’t have a right to it, but I don’t want to lose you. Just, I need to let you go because I don’t want to hold you back. I  _ can’t _ .”

Zuko is still staring at the rug when something soft comes into quick contact with his head.

“Ow!” he scowls, picking up the offending pillow. “What was that for?”

Sokka’s eyes are suspiciously bright, as he grips another pillow. “For being an idiot.” Sokka holds up the letter that had been laying, forgotten, by his side. “I wrote you this letter to say I’m sorry for walking out. Because, for some reason, I want to be with you no matter what, even if it takes time and I just got carried away and I wanted to apologize.”

Zuko looks at him blankly. “You don’t have to apologize?”

This statement is greeted with another pillow to the face. “Sokka!” he sputters, pushing it away. 

“I do have to apologize! I said that you weren’t capable of loving me, which is the most wrong thing I’ve ever said in my  _ life _ .”

Zuko shakes his head. “You weren’t wrong. I told you, I don’t know how to do this.”

Sokka is gripping another pillow, like he’s prepared to launch it at Zuko’s face, but he lets it go instead and makes grabbing hands towards Zuko. “C’mere,” he mumbles, and Zuko lets himself fall into Sokka, his head against his chest. He can hear his heartbeat, steady and sure.

“I didn’t want you to spend the night because I have nightmares,” Zuko mumbles against the fabric of Sokka’s shirt. “I wake up in the night, screaming, and sometimes I don’t know where I am. I don’t want you to have to deal with that.”

“I want to, though,” Sokka responds, carding his fingers through Zuko’s hair gently. “I understand if you need time. I just need you to know that I won’t mind. I want to be there. I want to know  _ all  _ of you.” Zuko can hear the smile in Sokka’s voice as he adds, a lilt to his voice, “and I mean  _ all  _ of you.”

Zuko pinches his side lightly, smiling as Sokka shrieks. 

“Seriously, dude.” Sokka starts rubbing circles on Zuko’s back. “I know you have a major guilt complex, but I have never  _ ever  _ felt like I was stuck with you. And I  _ won’t _ . You keep saying you don’t know how to love me, but you do it everyday without a second thought.”

Zuko tenses under Sokka’s hands because he’s  _ wrong, so wrong _ , because Zuko doesn’t know how to do this and he’s going to mess it all up. Sokka must notice, because he starts talking again.

“Like, when I was stuck down at the South Pole trying to build up the infrastructure. You sent me letters all the time, even if it was something silly like how you saw a toucan puffin that reminds you of me, which I take offense to  _ by the way _ ,” Sokka pokes Zuko’s side, enough to elicit a laugh. “Or how, even though you get up at the crack of dawn you always wait for me to get up so we can eat breakfast together. Or how, even though I know you don’t like the cold, you came down to visit me and Katara and Dad and you brought all of us gifts. Every day, Zuko, you show me you love me. I couldn’t ask for anything more.”

Zuko feels the tears that have been threatening his eyes all night come back. “I’m still going to mess it up,” he says, squeezing his eyes shut. A little bit of moisture escapes, dampening Sokka’s shirt. 

“So what! Zuko, you are  _ barely  _ an adult, you’re allowed to make mistakes. I’m going to make mistakes too, although you won’t catch me admitting that to anyone else, and the important thing is that you know that I will still be here for you, ready to talk about it.” Sokka shifts, so Zuko’s face is pressed against his neck as tears flow more readily. “I love you, Zuko, awkward turtleduck or not. I’m here for you.”

Zuko lets himself cry, tears flowing easily.  _ You don’t deserve this _ , a nagging voice in his head says. He doesn’t deserve this love, and he’s going to mess it up. 

But it’s hard to entertain such thoughts when Sokka is holding him and he’s  _ alive  _ and wants him, so Zuko tells himself that he can do this. When he falls asleep in Sokka’s arms, a tangle of limbs and hearts, he’s reminding himself that he can let himself be loved.

When he wakes up with a nightmare for a second time that night, Sokka’s there to press kisses to his forehead and soothe him back to sleep and Zuko tells himself that this is what love is, and it's all his. That everyone deserves love, and he can let himself have it.

Finally, he starts to believe it too. 

iv.

_ Philautia: self love _

The tea tray shakes slightly as Zuko grasps either side of it, making his way carefully down to the cells. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” Suki reminds him, as she does every time she escorts him to the prison.

“I know,” Zuko responds, like he does every time. “But he’s my father.”

She shrugs, squeezing his arm reassuringly. “We’ll be right outside.” 

He nods, as she slides open the prison door, and Zuko steps in. He walks forward to where the steel bars separate him from his father. Fire Lord from prisoner. Zuko from Ozai.

“Good morning, Father,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady. No matter how many times he visits, it never gets easier. Every time he sees Ozai’s figure, back to him, he can only remember the pain of the burn on his skin, the fear that coursed through him when, on the day of the solstice, he realized Ozai really did mean to kill him. “I’ve brought tea and hotcakes.”

His father, like always, does not respond. 

Zuko exhales as he sits down, cross-legged, and pours two cups of tea. He places one in front of Ozai’s cell, knowing it will go untouched. But he has to try. No matter how many times he is met with silence, he has to try. 

He will not become his father, he will  _ not  _ become ruled with hate and anger. 

“I’ve come to realize something,” Zuko begins, holding his own cup of tea in his hands. “All those years, growing up with you, you made me feel inferior. Small. As though I would never achieve this golden standard you set for me. And to me, when I was younger, that’s all I wanted. To be good enough in your eyes.”

Ozai stays with his back facing Zuko.

“I’ve realized that that inferiority is just something in my head, something that was created from years of living under your hand. You poisoned my mind, drove me apart from my sister, and for what? For power?” Zuko takes a sip of the tea, the jasmine flavor calming his nerves. “I don’t get it. I don’t think I’ll ever get it, how you could be so cruel. You burned your son just because he spoke up for what he believed in. You told him he had lost his honor, and sent him on an impossible mission to regain it. I think, now, I’ve learned. Honor isn’t something other people can take away. It’s something you make for yourself.

“I’ve created honor for myself by helping the Avatar. I’ve created honor by giving back to the Earth Kingdom and Water Tribe, for building monuments for the fallen Air Nomads. I’ve created my own honor by finding for myself what path I must take, instead of giving in to the fear that I would never be good enough for you.”

Zuko takes another sip of his tea. His hands have stopped shaking by now. This is the most confident he’s felt in years, and he knows all the words he says are true and hold weight. He’s speaking for himself, now, and that’s the most important thing to him. 

“You made me feel inferior. But I learned, through the help of Uncle and my friends, my  _ family _ , that the only person who can make me feel like that is myself. I know now that what you did was wrong, and I’m sorry that it’s driven our family apart for so long. I’m not going to thank you for anything, but I am going to forgive you. I’m going to forgive you, because that grudge and hate and fear has weighed down on me for my entire life, and I don’t want to give in to it anymore.”

He stands, leaving Ozai’s cup and a hotcake for him. Just in case. “I know who I am now, Father. I know what I am capable of. I’m going to build a new Fire Nation, one that is built on peace and respect instead of prejudice and fear. If I told you this when I was younger, you would have said I was too soft to be Fire Lord, and I would have believed you. But now, I know. There’s strength in kindness, strength in letting yourself love and be loved. It’s taken me my whole life to find that strength, but now that I have it, I’m not letting it go.”

Zuko bows to his father, not a symbol of subordination or inferiority any longer, but a sign of respect for the familial ties that will bind them for years. “I am me, Father. I am me, and that is enough.”

He turns to leave, boots clicking on the stone floor. Ozai has not said a word, but Zuko is not deterred. He’s said his piece and that’s all he can do. He’s done vying for his father’s love when he no longer needs it. 

“Goodbye, Father.”

The door clinks shut behind him, and Zuko lets out a small breath. Then he smiles. Suki smiles back, eyes squinting with a pride that mirrors what Zuko feels too. “Katara and Sokka have arrived from the Water Tribe, and Aang and Toph are back from the Earth Kingdom. You ready to go and see your friends?”

Zuko glances behind him, at the cold cell room. Then he looks at Suki, and wonders how he got so lucky as to make this life for himself. “I’m ready,” he says. 

He means it. 

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> My first avatar fic! I rewatched the series recently and my heart has been hurting for Zuko, this poor boy, so I decided to write a short thing for him. I hope you guys liked it! Also if you guys want to leave comments, please do, they make me so happy!


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